It had been three weeks since Saji vanished without a trace. His sudden disappearance left a void in the hearts of a few, and fueled rumors among the many.
Inside the grand halls of Beltrum's Royal Academy, the mood had shifted. Whispers clung to every corridor like dust on the windowsills.
Some claimed Jon had been expelled for using forbidden magic.
Others whispered that he had died on a mission gone wrong.
A few, like the noble boy Alphonse Rodan, were vocal in their delight.
---
Classroom – Morning Lecture
"—And that concludes the lecture on elemental fusion theory," the instructor said, shutting his grimoire with a thud.
The students began to chatter among themselves as the class ended. Flora remained seated, eyes staring at her desk, fingers lightly brushing against a folded letter—her own letter, the one she gave Jon. He had never answered. Never even looked back.
Christina and Roanna approached, concern in their eyes.
Christina:
"Flora, it's been weeks… he's not coming back. You need to let go of him."
Roanna (gently):
"We're worried about you. You haven't smiled since that day."
Flora forced a smile, but it was thin, fragile.
Flora:
"You're wrong… He will return. I know he will."
---
Celia's Private Laboratory
Celia sat alone in her dimly lit lab, staring at two letters on her desk—one addressed to her, the other to Rio.
Her hair was tied messily, and ink stained her fingers. Sleep had eluded her for nights. She had tried to contact Jon through magical traces, but he had masked his aura too well, disappearing like a ghost in the wind.
She reread his letter.
> "I'm sorry, Celia. I promise I'll return when I find the answer I seek. Until then, don't wait for me."
Tears welled up in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.
Instead, she poured herself into her research. Her recent breakthrough—Dimensional Gate Magic—could change the very understanding of teleportation. And maybe… just maybe, it could lead her to him.
Celia (softly):
"Foolish boy… You really thought I'd just let you go?"
---
Training Grounds – Afternoon
The training field was alive with sparring students, but none could fill the gap left by Jon.
Alphonse Rodan, ever eager to assert his dominance, stood smugly at the center of the field. With Jon gone, he saw a new opportunity to rise uncontested.
Alphonse:
"Looks like the so-called 'Beast' was a coward after all. Disappeared like a stray dog."
A few students laughed nervously.
That was when Princess Flora walked onto the training field.
Silence fell.
Alphonse turned, smirking.
Alphonse:
"Well, well, if it isn't the Beast's little admirer. Come to cry again, Princess?"
Flora stepped forward, calm but fierce. Her silver rapier gleamed at her hip.
Flora:
"I challenge you, Alphonse Rodan. Here. Now."
The crowd gasped.
Alphonse blinked, then sneered.
Alphonse:
"You want to duel me? You're just a sheltered little flower."
Flora (coldly):
"Then let's see how well a flower can cut."
---
The Duel Begins
They squared off under the fading light. Celia had quietly arrived to watch, arms crossed, brows furrowed.
Alphonse lunged with brute strength. Flora evaded gracefully, dancing around him with footwork that startled even the instructors.
She parried, countered, and then—SLASH—her rapier sliced through the air, knocking his sword clean from his hand.
In one smooth motion, she pointed her blade at his neck.
Flora:
"Yield."
Alphonse growled but dropped to one knee.
The crowd erupted in stunned silence, then applause.
Flora turned and walked away, her expression unreadable.
---
Later That Night – Celia's Lab
Celia and Flora sat together. Celia placed a hand over Flora's.
Celia:
"He'll come back. You were right to believe in him."
Flora looked at the moon through the window, holding onto the memory of Jon's voice, his warmth, and the way he always stood up for others without expecting anything in return.
Flora (whispering):
"Please be safe, Jon."
---
Meanwhile – Far Away in the Shadows
Jon, still masked and clad in black, stared down at a fortress guarded by dozens of soldiers. At his side stood Rio, blades drawn.
Jon (calmly):
"Let's get our Guildmaster back."